


-gate

by oh_simone



Series: Gen 2020 [2]
Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, F/M, M/M, Political Campaigns, tabloid scandal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25297825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_simone/pseuds/oh_simone
Summary: “Is that a mullet?” Costis asked.“Is that all you can say?” Kamet said, swinging his glare on Costis, who shrugged feebly.“I don’t know, Kamet, there’s a lot happening on this tabloid cover and I’m not sure what you want me to comment on first.”
Relationships: Attolia | Irene/Eugenides, Kamet/Costis Ormentiedes, past Eugenides/Sophos
Series: Gen 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832605
Comments: 23
Kudos: 77





	-gate

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Mints! You asked, so here it is.

Costis and Gen were debating the finer points of his dinner speech with a whole statesworth of Iowan businessmen when Kamet slammed into the hotel room, his hair wild and glasses askew.

Gen frowned but mostly because he was accustomed to being the dramatic one. If he’d wanted to hold on to the crown in _that_ arena, thought Costis, he definitely shouldn’t have hired Kamet.

“Yes, Kamet?” Gen prodded after a moment in which Kamet just glared at him, speechless with some kind of apoplectic fury that he’d last shown when Costis used the last of Kamet’s fancy European butter for toast. In the ensuing tense moment that bespoke pistols at ten paces, Costis automatically assessed Kamet’s otherwise appearance—he’d left him in the hotel Starbucks an hour ago, sucking down java chip frappucinos at horrific speed and coordinating with New Hampshire HQ over the phone. Besides the hair—truly riotous—and a brown splotch of coffee on his collar, Kamet looked alright. The color was up in his cheeks, and his gaze was clear if furious. And it certainly seemed like he’d eaten the croissant Costis had left on his table, from the way he was expending energy now.

“Should I leave—or, okay.” Costis blinked as Kamet stormed over and slapped onto the coffee table a tabloid. He jabbed a finger at the cover image.

“You did not tell me about this,” Kamet hissed at Gen with such malice that Aris, standing guard at the door, shifted uncomfortably forward on his feet. Costis waved him down.

Gen put his glasses back on and both he and Costis bent over the magazine cover. There, in fuzzy but glorious detail, was Eugenides with one hand holding a red Solo cup and the other on the back of a blond man’s head, his tongue down said blond man’s throat. What looked to be a younger version of disgraced DC lobbyist Ambiades Eumen was hanging over the back of the couch next to their make out session, mugging for the camera and flashing devil horns.

A long silence ensued.

“Is that a mullet?” Costis asked.

“It was the late 90s, don’t hate,” Gen said absently.

“Is that all you can say?” Kamet said, swinging his glare on Costis, who shrugged feebly.

“I don’t know, Kamet, there’s a lot happening on this tabloid cover and I’m not sure what you want me to comment on first,” Costis sighed, sitting back and jamming a thumb at a spot between his eyes. “I’m calling in Hilarion and Phil, and you’d better see if Irene can leave her meet-and-greet earlier.”

Gen frowned, then his face cleared. “Does this mean we can skip the luncheon?”

“Rescheduling, with your deepest apologies,” Kamet snarled, typing rapid-fire on his phone. “You are currently puking your guts out due to poorly cooked shrimp.”

“Sure we won’t offend big seafood?” Gen said drily.

“Oh, here they are,” Costis said, before Kamet could snap back and waved the rest of the team over.

“What’s going on?” Hilarion asked, laptop tucked under his arm. “I thought we were meeting downstairs at eleven.”

“Change of plans. We’re clearing the afternoon,” Kamet said tersely, shoving his hair back from his face, to not much avail, Costis noted.

“What?” Phil turned to Gen. “Why? What’s going on—oooooooooh. Is that—”

“Yes,” Costis sighed. “Phil, can you get in touch with Helen and Sophos?”

Phil shot finger guns. “On it.”

Gen picked up the magazine and flipped through it until he landed on the article. His brows drew together absently as he skimmed it. “Well, that’s not accurate at all,” he murmured.

“Unless,” Kamet said, deadly and vicious, “the next words out of your mouth is, ‘this is all photoshop,’ please don’t say anything.”

Gen’s eyebrows went up, and Costis could read the flash of amused irritation in his face easily. Costis caught his eye and nodded his head towards the bedroom of the hotel suite, and Gen snorted but shrugged.

“Costis and I are finishing the chamber of commerce speech in the bedroom,” Gen announced, gathering his notes and pen. “Don’t bother us until Irene gets here.” He waved and sauntered off.

When Gen disappeared into the room, Costis tugged Kamet aside. “Hey,” he said, “You’ve a right to your alarm, but you need to calm down. Something like this isn’t anything that hasn’t happened to a thousand other campaigns. We’ve both seen much, much worse. In any case, whatever happens,” Costis pointed a finger towards the bedroom. “That man is still your boss, and _you_ are a professional. We’ve all agreed he’s going to be the next president of the United States of America if it kills us.”

“ _When_ ,” Kamet muttered, and when Costis frowned harder at him, he sighed and nudged his glasses up to rub his eyes. “Yes, I understand. Fine.”

Costis smiled at him and shook his arm gently. “That’s the spirit, Kamet.”

“Just go away, oh my God,” Kamet said, a pretty flush darkening his cheeks.

“I wasn’t exactly keeping it secret. Irene knew,” Gen said.

“Hon, I don’t think that’s what Kamet’s worried about,” Irene said serenely.

“Thank you, Irene,” Kamet said, less shouty now, but still plenty intense. “Look, it’s not about the proximity to Mr. Ambiades “Treason-is-my-exotic-call-girl’s-name” Eumen—everyone knows you two were classmates. It’s not even the bisexual part of it, Gen, before you say a _word_.”

“So what, then?” Gen said innocently.

Costis dropped a hand on Kamet’s shoulder, the better to weigh him down so that their campaign manager didn’t leap over the coffee table and smack their presidential hopeful with the rolled-up tabloid.

“Gen,” Irene said warningly.

Kamet breathed in deep and out slow. He pressed his palms together. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that you dated. Sophos. Your cousin’s. _Husband_.”

“Because it was years ago,” Gen pointed out. “And we only dated for about two months in college, when we were in the same lab over the summer.”

“Only two months? What did you do, spill chemicals on him?” Costis asked.

Gen chuckled. “Took him to a party and introduced him to Helen. It was all very ‘Tennessee Waltz’.”

“So, so, so,” Kamet chanted tugging at his hair distractedly and eyes going distant as his mind spun. “Okay, okay, okay. We can work with that. Right? Phil? Hilarion?”

Hilarion shook his head. “If we shuffle some stuff around next week, you can do a late night. Colbert? Or Kimmel, if you want to wait until we’re in California next Sunday.”

“We need something _now_ ,” Kamet said. 

“You want we can coopt the trending hashtags on social media,” Phil suggested, thumbing through his phone. “You’ve got #kissingcousins, #DCinbreeding, and #fakecest to choose from. Also, an excitable corner of the internet has dubbed thee Eugenophos.”

“I don’t like any of those,” Irene told Gen.

“Kissing cousins is kinda funny,” Gen admitted, and she shook her head at him and mouthed, ‘no’.

“They aren’t even blood related,” Costis pointed out, but Phil just shrugged.

“It’s easy, it’s scandalous. If this is Mede’s doing, it’s crude but effective,” he said, and then cut Kamet a pointed look.

“Senator Naheelid wouldn’t sign off on something like that,” Kamet said curtly.

“Only if he knew about it,” Phil pointed out. “His brother might leak it without telling him. Isn’t that what the senator prefers?”

Kamet scowled back but for once, didn’t seem to have a sharp retort ready. As he ever did when someone brought up his ex-boss, he just sort of hunched up and shuttered down. Each time he did, Costis wished that he’d gone ahead and punched the son of a bitch when he’d had the chance.

And Costis _had_ , at the Meridian Ball last year. Nahuseresh had approached Irene and Gen to exchange polite and fictive well-wishes, and then proceeded to insinuate unsavory implications about how Kamet cinched his position as Gen’s campaign manager.

Costis had never been able to hide his feelings very well, but luckily for him, Gen’d replied with something glib and simultaneously withering while Irene had discreetly handed Costis some champagne, the better to hide his seething rage behind. Kamet hadn’t been present, but if he had, a little coupe glass and a splash of Bollinger would not have stopped Costis from kicking the asshole’s ass so hard his grandchildren would be spitting diamonds.

So, no. Costis did not like Nahuseresh Mede at all.

Hilarion calmly reached out and pinched Phil without looking. “Let’s not accuse the opposing campaign unless we have some actual evidence.”

“It shouldn’t be a big deal anyways,” Costis said, and everyone turned to him. He shrugged. “What? It isn’t. It was ages ago, and it’s not like you can’t be friends with your exes. What matters,” he said meditatively, “is _Irene_.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Why, thank you Costis, that’s very sweet.”

“I’m just stating the obvious, ma’am,” Costis said demurely, pleased by her crooked smile. “Gen, how many people did you date before Sophos?”

Gen squinted a bit. “Two… sort of three? Does holding hands with Jenny Chang during fourth grade recess count?”

“And how many after Sophos?”

“Just the one,” Gen said, starting to catch on.

“How old were you when you met Sophos?”

“Nineteen. And I met Irene the next summer.”

Costis grinned. “And how long did it take for you to agree to a date, ma’am?”

“Oh, another decade at least,” she said drily.

“We pivot instead to the epic romance,” Kamet said with dawning understanding. “The whole story. Not just the accident that brought you two together and the so low-key-it-was-practically-secret wedding. But from the very beginning.” He turned and beamed at Costis, a delighted, gleeful expression that warmed Costis like sunshine.

Costis spread his hands, palm up. Ta-da. “That’s our response.”

“It’s not exactly a secret that Gen and I knew each other and were at loggerheads for a good chunk of time,” Irene pointed out.

“But no one’s ever gone on record saying that the moment Gen saw you at Congressman Satchel’s retirement was the moment he fell in love,” Costis said, already spinning the tale. “One glance was all it took, even though, with your backgrounds and political interests, you two were never meant to be friends, much less _married_. People know that you spent the next ten years arguing on CNN and sniping at each other at charity balls. But they don’t know about the little gifts and handwritten notes Gen would send you after.”

“I’d hardly call a used Ruby Tuesday beer coaster a gift, but I see your point,” Irene said.

“People do enjoy a good tale of unrequited pining,” Hilarion agreed, furiously tapping away on the laptop.

“Only better, because eventually it’s requited!” Phil added.

“Counterpoint,” Kamet said. “We risk him coming off looking like a stalker.”

“We don’t want that,” Gen agreed, biting back a grin. “Irene’s constituents were already plenty skeptical when we actually got married.”

“So let Irene do the talking,” Hilarion suggested. “Voters already like her; they find her admirable and trustworthy. More than they do Gen, according to this YouGov poll. Sorry Gen.”

“As they should,” Gen said firmly, gazing at his wife as though they’d been married seven days instead of seven years.

“Maybe Irene should be running instead; we’d probably lock down Colorado and Ohio for sure,” Phil muttered.

“I have a chance at my first real vacation in a decade, Philologos, I’ll thank you not to give them any ideas,” Irene laughed. “Besides, Phresine will strangle me if I take her away from her grandchildren at this point. Another four years, those children will be moody teenagers, and we can reconsider.”

“You’d risk primarying your own beloved husband?” Gen cried; if anything, he looked more adoring.

“Darling,” Irene said, “I’ve done worse for the good of the nation.” She patted his cheek. “You’d be a decent First Gentleman.”

Kamet clapped his hands together and then ran a distracted hand through his curls. His hair really was getting long and messy, Costis observed. After they were done, Costis would volunteer to give him a trim in the bathtub, and they could order in and keep one eye on _90 Day Fiancé_ while working out the rest of the week’s to-do list. And maybe it’d just be an excuse to see Kamet smile, blurry and soft without his glasses, and also shove some much-needed calories and hydration down his throat.

“Let's survive this campaign first before starting any new ones. Hilarion,” Kamet said, “You have that one friend from—what was it? _Vanity Fair_? _New Yorker_?”

“Dite Erondites? He's at _New York Magazine_.”

Kamet snapped in confirmation. “Call them up, see if we can do a sit down. Meanwhile, we still need something we can do _now._ Phil, can you grab someone, review and shine up our talking points on LGBTQ issues, and adjust how we work it into our campaign positions and messaging. Costis…”

“I'll have a statement before the end of the day,” Costis said, letting go of his hopeful plans to pet Kamet’s curls. He turned to Irene and Gen. “Pizza or Chinese?”

“Burgers,” Gen said, contrarian as always. “Kamet, what about you?”

Kamet gestured to his phone and stood up from the couch. “Agape just called back from Helen’s office. I’m going to run her down what we’ve discussed, and see how we can coordinate on their end. Hello? Agape, it’s Kamet. Yeah, hi, thanks for getting in touch. Listen, have you seen…?”

His voice muffled as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Phil gestured. “Is he just going to be in there all night? Because I kind of need to pee.”

“Just leave,” Costis sighed, waving.

“I’ll let you know when we secure an interview,” Hilarion said, as he and Phil gathered their notes and laptops.

Once they were alone, Costis turned to find Gen with his chin propped on his prosthetic hand, grinning and waggling his eyebrows at him.

“So you want to know all the dirty details of our love affair, hm? Costis, you sly dog.”

Costis blinked at him slow and deliberate. “You, don’t talk,” he said mildly. “Irene?”

“Let’s order dinner first, shall we? And how long do you think Kamet will be in there?” she asked curiously.

“I can drag him out,” Costis said apologetically, and standing up.

“No, well,” Irene said with a strange expression and a sideways glance at Gen. “I haven’t had a chance to tidy up in there, and it’s a bit messy.”

“…It shouldn’t bother him,” Costis said, feeling his eyebrows rise. Next to Irene, Gen was grinning harder.

“Perhaps not, only his stress levels are so high,” Irene tsked. Then she shrugged, saying, “Well, I’m sure he won’t notice,” right as a shriek, escalating in pitch and alarm warbled through the wall.

“…er,” Costis said.

The bathroom door slammed open and Kamet emerged, ashen-faced, phone jammed against one ear, those distracting curls even more tousled than it had been ten minutes ago, and brandished aloft in one hand, a slim, white stick with a telling little window in the center.

“ _You’re pregnant!_ ” Kamet accused airlessly.

“Just barely,” Irene said. “Our first check up’s the day after the next.”

“You’re holding the pee end,” Gen pointed out.

After another long and excruciating stretch of frozen tension, Costis coughed and stood up.

“Congratulations, Irene,” he said sincerely, and then crossed the room to Kamet’s side. He plucked the phone out of Kamet’s nerveless fingers, said hello and goodbye to Agape, and then gingerly, took the not-pee end of the pregnancy test from Kamet’s hand and dropped it back on the bathroom counter. Then, taking Kamet by the shoulders, he shook him gently until his eyes focused on Costis. “Kamet, go wash your hands, and then come and get burgers with me,” he said gently. When Kamet started to scowl, Costis shook his head firmly. “Now.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Kamet snapped, but did as he was told.

“Like what?” Costis asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorjamb, ignoring the now-matching grins of the Eddises behind him.

“Like you’re talking to the cats.”

“Nonsense; Immakuk and Ennikar are way better behaved.”

Kamet snorted as he turned off the tap and dried his hands. “You spoil both of them rotten.” He caught Costis’ eyes in the mirror; Costis smiled crookedly.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

Kamet inclined his head reluctantly

“Food?”

“I could eat,” Kamet grumbled.

“C’mon then.” Costis slung an arm around Kamet’s slim shoulders and steered him towards the door. Aris already had it open, with a wink to Costis as they passed.

“Order enough for five,” Gen called. “Someone’s eating for two!”

Kamet made a very high-pitched, close-mouthed scream of frustration as the door closed behind them. “I’ll strangle him.”

“No you won’t,” Costis said warmly.

“I really will, Cos, I’ll just- hold on and shake him like a coconut tree.”

“Kamet.”

Kamet scowled and jabbed at the elevator call button a couple times. “You got more Tums? I’m out of Tums. Can we get more Tums?”

“We’ll get more Tums,” Costis reassured him. The elevator arrived and he hustled them both in. When the doors slid shut, Costis finally gave into temptation. He reached out and tugged one of Kamet’s curls. Like magic, Kamet fell silent. His eyes went wide and almost cross-eyed as he stared at Costis’ hand. The hair was just as soft and pleasantly springy as it looked from afar. Costis, emboldened, sank his hand deeper into the mass of curls and gently twisted so that the hair slid through his fingers. When the silence became almost unbearable, Costis hummed. “Your hair’s getting long. I can cut it for you.”

“Um,” Kamet squeaked.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

“C’mon, burger time. I think there’s a Five Guys in the strip mall back that way,” Costis said, strolling towards the exit and the taxi stand.

“ _Costis,”_ Kamet hissed, but Costis just smiled and squinted out into the fading dusk. It might take some time for Kamet to realize, but it had been a beautiful, wonderful day on the campaign trail: Gen loved his wife deliriously, there was a new arrival to celebrate, and Costis and Kamet would be spending the rest of the night together, shoulder to shoulder and arguing about how best to phrase “deliriously in love” without making Gen sound like a total psycho, while Irene watched _90 Day Fiancé_ in the background.

_(And maybe someday soon, Costis will stand behind Kamet in the backyard with scissors and comb, trimming his curls while the cats meowed and twined about their feet, and Kamet will grumble about pollsters and swing voters, his shoulders golden and warm, and a blush, just visible, staining the soft curve of his ears.)_

**Author's Note:**

> [commentary here](https://chouette.dreamwidth.org/151039.html)


End file.
